More Lonely Than the Flowers
by ChillyRilly
Summary: Alice finally figures out why her father has been acting so strangely. Why couldn't it be another false dream instead of a dreadful reality?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING of Alice In Wonderland. Trust me, if I did, you'd know. The screaming, the jumping, the Futterwacking. . . **

** Inspirational Song: "Little Alice" - Danny Elfman**

. . . . .

Alice Kingsleigh soared through the air and giggled. "Catch me!"

Her father, Charles Kingsleigh, laughed as Alice launched herself off the porch at him. He caught her easily enough, despite the slight pain in his side, and set her gently down onto the ground. Charles tapped Alice's nose with his finger and she grinned. "I take it your done with your lessons, Alice?"

The little blonde smiled mischievously at him and fiddled with the lacing of her blue dress. "I might've gotten a little. . . side-tracked."

He raised his eyebrows and gasped theatrically. "Ah, side-tracked; a very serious case! Well then, my little workaholic, you need to take a break and ease your mind, don't you?"

Alice nodded vigorously.

"Come along then. The flowers look a little lonely."

Alice giggled at the usual silliness of her father and trotted along beside him. She looked up at him with a sort of childish pride. He was a father like no other and _Alice_ was the one to have him! He walked with her and played with her and sometimes even taught her lessons to her instead of her old, boring, wrinkly, drawling, and extremely putrid tutor.

But lately, Alice had noticed some changes within her father. Not personality changes, thanks the Saints, but physical changes. Not like hers, either: slightly taller, figure vaguely starting to slim. Her developments came along with becoming a young lady, or so she was told. But her father's skin had been turning a little sallow nowadays. He also couldn't play with her for too long anymore before having to go inside. His hair was thinning out, as well. She worried about him.

Alice tried her hardest to act as if she didn't notice anything. It _killed_ her not to ask, but once when she had asked her mother why her father seemed weaker than usual, she had been scorned for it and told never to ask another question like the one again. . . Ever.

Alice reluctantly promised to never bring up the topic of her father's health again. . . Ever.

Her father smiled wistfully at her. "You can get so lost in your head, Alice. That's a sign of a good-thinking brain."

Alice smiled up at him.

They walked through a path of trees and roses to sit on a silver-stoned bench. The sun was streaming down and the air was crisp. Alice took a deep breath and sighed, eyes closed. She felt her father's hand pat her arm fondly.

She opened her eyes with a relaxed smile and quickly noticed her mother staring at the two of them from far away. Her smile vanished. Helen was standing by their clothesline with her arms crossed across her white-clad chest. Despite the stern posture, her eyes were soft. The maid standing next to her was chattering along though, not noticing her mother's current distraction. She hung up another blouse as Alice's mother sighed and turned her attention back to the maid. Her hands fell to her sides.

Alice couldn't shake a foreign feeling of impending sorrow. She poked her father's arm lightly to get his attention. "Father? Why is mother acting so. . . oddly?"

Charles looked down at her with a plastic smile and tight eyes. "Your mother is fine, Alice."

Alice just looked at him, eyebrows raised. "You're lying."

Charles gave a shaky laugh. "You caught me." He shrugged. "Well, she's just been. . . a bit under stress lately."

"How come?"

"Well. . . " Charles bit his lip and ran his hand through his dark hair. "You know, Alice, you always have to be prepared for everything and anything. The best and the worst. The complex and the simple. The negative and the positive. Anything could happen at any moment in time. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Alice's brow furrowed. "Err. . . I don't think so, actually."

"Just ponder that for a bit then." He sat back, somehow forgetting the existence of Alice's fondness of questions.

"But what does it have to do with mother?" Alice chirped.

He sat back up again, rubbing his side. "Just like you, and anyone else for that matter, your mother has to stay prepared."

"For what?"

"Anything."

"Anything as in what?"

"Whatever you can imagine, Alice."

"Anything as in your illness?"

Charles looked down at her in alarmed concern, his brown eyes becoming wide. Alice's lower lip quivered. If she wasn't allowed to ask her mother about her father, what would happen if she directly asked her father what was wrong with him? She supposed she was about to find out.

"Alice. . . " Charles sighed. He put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. "I knew you had noticed. Of course you would have, you're my darling little Alice."

She remained silent.

Charles opened his eyes and looked hard at Alice, seriousness written all over his face. He took her little hands in his. "Alice, you will grow up to be a very brave, very courageous young lady. You were raised to change the world and challenge other's opinions. You are going to be even more beautiful than you already are. But unlike a lot of other women, you will be as strong as a soldier." His hold on her tightened. "You know this, don't you?"

All she could do was nod. His fierce gaze frightened her.

He nodded back to her and his hands loosened a bit. He sighed again for what felt like the millionth time. "I'm unwell, Alice. I'm sure you've already guessed at that, though, so I'm simply confirming it for you. Doctors aren't entirely sure as to what it is I have, so it can't be treated properly."

Icy chills skimmed down Alice's back. "What will happen?" she whispered.

Her father swallowed uncomfortably, like a man who knew his emotions would soon die out. "We don't know what will happen, Alice. It's not up to us anymore."

Alice gasped and felt her eyes widen as a single tear escaped and ran down her cheek. She shook her head fiercely at the finality in her father's tone. Death was implied and Alice did not like it.

"No!" Alice fought free from her father's cold hands and launched herself at his chest, only to become more upset at the slight grunt of pain she had caused within her father. "No!" She yelled again, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "That's not right! That's not fair!"

Alice heard her father's low sob and felt her heart clench. "It'll be alright, Alice. . . It'll be alright. . . "

"No. . . No. . . " she whimpered.

He attempted to sooth her down and rubbed the back of her head while in a tight embrace. They shakily rocked back and forth on the stone bench in a sorrow-filled silence.

Time with her best friend was running out. And even while wrapped up in her father's arms, Alice had never felt so alone.

At that moment, she felt even more lonely than the flowers.

. . . . .

** Insanity: . . . A bit depressing, if you ask me.**

** Rachel: Shush. **_**Nobody **_**asked you. No one ever does. Let the reader have their moment.**

** Insanity: And what if your literature sparked no emotion?**

** Rachel: Then that itself would spark a sad emotion inside of **_**me.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, friends! I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue this or not, but after pondering some lovely advice of Niphuria's, I've finally accepted the challenge! :D I've planned for it to be about 10 chapters long, a year passing with each chapter. So let's see how this works out, shall we?**

. . . . .

DOBBIN THE BLACKSMITH

The village forge old Dobbin kept,  
And earned his bread from day to day;  
For up he rose when others slept,  
And worked while others were at play.

The gossips of the town would pay  
A morning visit to his shop;  
And while old Dobbin worked away,  
They talked as if they'd never stop.

Thus Farmer Dogberry, you see,  
Lays down the law to Beadle Dio;  
While Ploughman Ox appears to be  
The wisest of the idle trio.

But Dobbin only blinks his eyes,  
For he has honest work to do,  
And thinks that talk, however wise,  
Will never mend a horse's shoe.

Like Dobbin, let us learn to keep  
A watchful eye and silent tongue;  
And never let our conscience sleep  
When idle gossips we're among.

Alice pondered that poem for a while, thinking over its obvious message. She had found it in a children's book her father had bought her- she was supposedly reading an educational novel at this time- and thought to read it. She often tried to learn the message that children's books taught, because there always was one and most of the time, she thought them humorous. This one? Don't waste time gossiping. Oh yes, Faith and Fiona Chataway certainly learned that one.

TABBY THE PIPER

As Tabby lay basking one day in the sun,  
A-longing for something to eat,  
He thought to himself 'twould be capital fun  
To play on a pipe for his meat.

So Tabby, who was an ingenious cat,  
Ran off to his home in the mews,  
Where he put on a coat and a wide-awake hat,  
And breeches and stockings and shoes.

And then in the road, with his pipe in his mouth,  
He played such a comical air,  
That he startled the folk in the north and the south,  
And the east and the west of the square.

From Piggy the porter he got but a laugh,  
Ducky the housemaid a quack,  
And Carlo the groom gave him nothing but chaff,  
So Tabby went dinnerless back.

So people who sometimes, led on by conceit,  
Attempt what they cannot well do,  
A warning should take from poor Tabby's defeat,  
Or they may get ridiculed too.

Alice always remembered this one in particular because of its horrible message; Don't do what brings stares. What if the tabby had practiced more? All he wanted was something to eat. And what if the tabby _liked _to play his pipe? Just because he wasn't the best pipe-player didn't mean he should stop.

Alice sighed. She was sitting on her bed, stalling her studies. Her mind just wasn't there today.

Her bedroom door opened and Alice quickly slid her book under the sheets. Her mother took one look at her and sighed. "Alice, you're supposed to be preparing for your lessons. What are you doing?"

"Er. . ." She looked around for some believable excuse. Perhaps a snake would slither through her window. She was hiding from the snake! She peeked at her window from the corner of her eye. Nothing came.

Helen came up to her and lifted the sheets, revealing the culprit. Her mother looked at her with a discouraging smile and blank eyes. "Oh, Alice. One day you'll learn that these books have taught you nothing. Your father and I bought you school books for a reason, young lady."

Alice sat up and slid out of bed, earning a _tisk, tisk _from her mother as her dress wrinkled. "I'm sorry," she said.

Her mother guided her out of the room with a hand on her back. She walked down the hall, headed for the tea room, to meet with her tutor. "Next time, Alice." She said that every time. Next time what?

They passed her father's study. Alice peeked through the doorway as they passed, expecting to see her father reading in the large chair behind his desk. He wasn't there. She looked up at her mother. "Where's father?" she asked.

Helen swallowed, still looking ahead. "He had an appointment."

"Political or. . . ?"

Her mother nodded gravely.

Alice frowned. It had been a year since she'd learned of her father's illness. Her mother wasn't too keen on Alice knowing about it, but her father said that she was bound to figure it out one day. He just hadn't expected her to find out so soon. Alice smiled smugly at that.

Every once in a while, maybe every two months or so, Charles would leave for a day for a medical examination. He told her it was to track the illness's actions and movements, or something along the likes of that. She worried about him. Her father deserved the best of everything and anything, and here this illness was, messing with him. Of all people.

"Alice," a voice said softly. She looked up at her mother with big eyes. Helen smiled apologetically at her. "No matter what happens, life we go on normally. You understand? Nothing will keep our family apart."

"I understand."

"Good." They stopped outside the tea room's doors. "You're a strong girl, Alice. Believe that."

With a small nod, Alice entered the tea room and shut the doors behind her, hiding her mother's worried expression.

. . . . .

** Rachel: Hopefully this story will progress well and be interesting enough for y'all.**

** Insanity: We may live in Indiana, the state of corn, but that is no excuse for you to use Y'ALL!**

** Rachel: Y'all better come on back now, ya hear?**

** Insanity: Pitiful. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Welcome back; thank you for clicking! And may I just thank the merry Reviewers for Reviewing? Yes! Well, thank you! (I might be a lil' slap happy, so please excuse me.)**

** I forgot to do this last time! Disclaimer: I don't own anything of AiW.**

** Inspirational Song: "Alice Reprise 1" - Danny Elfman (These will all be of Danny Elfman)**

. . . . .

Blue caterpillar. . . so much smoke! A pale, bandaged hand reaching out to her-why? Why did he always reach out to her? The smoke even engulfed the hand now. She frowned. What had the hand wanted? She tried to run away- something was chasing her! It was huge, hairy, the claws so big! So sharp! She ran away, into the smoke, running so far as to enter a pearly white castle. It was all so bright-too bright! The fire was everywhere-burning the buildings, burning the ground! Colorful children ran all about, calling to their parents. Where were Alice's parents? Where was _Alice_? She wanted out! She wanted-

"Alice! Alice, please, wake up!"

Alice turned and kicked the monster, smiling smugly at the low grunt of pain.

"Alice, wake up now, dear. It was just another dream." That voice. . . "Come on home now, Alice." Father!

Alice stopped thrashing about and lay stock-still. She opened her eyes, panting for air. Her father's worried face was hovering right above her own. His hand was on her shoulder. Behind him was her mother, staring at her curiously. Both were in their sleep-wear. The moon's mysterious light shone through her window, casting a dark glow on everything in the room.

Guilt at having woken them both up at such an hour crashed into Alice. "I'm sorry. . . I- I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright, it's alright," her father cooed. He patted down her hair. "Was it the same as last time?"

Alice nodded, recalling the familiar, but still strange, setting. "Only this time, I remember a castle. It was extremely bright-abnormally bright, even."

"Did it frighten you?"

Alice nodded, a slight frown across her face.

"Well, you must remember that it was just a dream, nothing more. They cannot harm you; nothing in the dream can." His brow furrowed. "Do you remember how to wake yourself up if you ever get too frightened?"

She nodded again, pointing out the spot to pinch, a confused expression on her face. "It's strange, but. . . " She lowered her hand. "No matter how afraid I may be in the dream, I can never seem to want to wake up. Sometimes, I even think about waking myself up. But I don't. Because the places and people are so mysterious, so interesting. . . " She got a faraway look in her eyes. "It's all so curious to me."

"Oh, Charles, this is ridiculous!" Her mother had finally decided to speak up. Alice gave her a questioning look.

"What?" her father asked.

"This is not normal," she said in a low tone. "This is not right."

Alice's father turned to her and kissed her forehead. "Get some sleep now, Alice. Nothing will harm you." She was still staring at her mother as they both swiftly left the room. Charles closed the door softly behind him.

Curious once again, Alice got up and went to the door. Slowly, very slowly, she quietly opened it up just a crack. She pressed her ear against the frame, listening to the conversation right outside her door in the hall.

"This is not normal!" she heard her mother say again. "These dreams, or nightmares they seem more like, they're uncommon, Charles. They're so strange." Her tone softened as she went on to speak. "How many years has it been since this started? She's twelve now, Charles! I'm worried about her mental well-being."

"Alice is fine, Helen, I'm sure of it. Does our little girl seem like a mental-case to you? A psychoneurotic, perhaps?" Alice didn't know the meaning of that word, but it certainly didn't sound good.

"No, but I don't want to take any chances of her becoming one."

"What are you saying?"

"Do you think-" Her voice caught. "Do you think Alice should see someone?" Alice had to stifle her gasp of horror. They were only dreams; that's what she had been told, after all! She'd been having them for years, and she was turning out moderately okay! Or at least, that's what she had thought. . .

Her father's expression must've startled her mother, for she quickly went on to explain. "Margaret never had any problems with nightmares, and the few she had went away by the time she was seven. And even those were about child-like things. Alice has been having the oddest dreams for almost six years now! And they occur almost every night!"

"We will cope with this as a family, because families work together. As a unit. This is nothing to be talked about forebodingly because it isn't foreboding at all." His voice was firmer than Alice had ever heard it.

"Well of course it'd be a private matter, Charles. We don't want the neighbors thinking our daughter should be shipped off to the asylum!" She had whispered the last part harshly. Alice felt a lone tear travel down her cheek.

"The neighbors?" Charles asked in a dark tone. "The neighbors," he sighed. Alice could just picture her father shaking his head.

"I'm worried about her, is all," her mother said softly. "I yearn to do something, _anything_, that might help her. That's all."

There was a tense moment of silence as the two of them thought all this over. Alice stood at the door, her hand over her mouth, shaking. She waited for her father's reply.

Finally, she heard her father say: "This is not as major as you may think, Helen. It will soon pass, and if it doesn't, all will remain the same. Alice is as strong as a soldier and doesn't need any strange man prodding her about her thoughts. Let's go to bed now." His tone was so final that her mother didn't question him. Alice heard them mosey off to their room.

Quietly, Alice shut her door. She turned around and numbly walked over to her bed. She lay down in it and cried herself to sleep. She had no nightmares.

. . . . .

**Rachel: D:**

** Insanity: =P Oh, yes, the wonders you can do with faces.**

** Rachel: I started out slap happy when I wrote this. . . And now... Not so much.**

** Insanity: :O**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the longer wait! It's last semester in school, so logically the teachers would want to throw the math books in our faces. But don't worry, I'll throw back. Anyway. Thanks for checkin' out another chapter. Hope you enjoy it.**

** Disclaimer: I (sadly) own nothing of AiW.**

** Inspirational Song: "Proposal- Down the Hole"**

. . . . .

"Such a wonderful day. Wouldn't you agree, Alice?"

"Mhmm."

Hamish kept on chattering, unaware that Alice was only half-listening. The more adventurous half of her was dreaming about what it would be like to be a fish. Those little things could swim for miles and miles. And at such a speed, it was a wonder one could see them pass by. . .

"But my mother interjected and told the man how to do it right."

Plus, they never had to come up from their water for air. If Alice could breathe under water, she might've never thought of even going back up! The sea was so deep, such wonders must reside down there. . . But surely someone would miss her? Her father. . . Her sister. . . Her mother. . . Possibly the Chataways. . .

"He looked a bit miffed, but that's what you get for doing the job wrong, I suppose." Would Hamish miss her?

And of course, they didn't have to wear confining clothing. Why would they want to? They had all their shining scales to show off. . .

"What do you think our wedding will be like, Alice?"

Those words certainly got her attention. "Excuse me?" she asked, caught off guard.

The two of them were sitting across from each other at the Kingsleigh's parlor table. Their fathers had wanted to get together for a little re-cap over their trade plans, so Alice and Hamish were thrown together again. The lighting was dim, but they had already finished their reading. Alice had dazed off soon after, but now. . .

"Excuse me?" she repeated.

"I said, what do you think our wedding will be like?" Hamish had a deep and faraway look in his eyes. For all Alice knew, he could've been imaging the event itself right then and there.

"Well." Alice rested her head on her arms. "How do you even know if we're getting married? We're only thirteen."

Hamish's head sprung back in surprise. "I thought we'd already gone over this?"

Alice's brow furrowed as she slowly shook her head back and forth.

"Oh." Hamish placed his hands in his lap. "Well, my mother's been working on this for quite a while now, and the way she puts it, it only seems logical that we marry. Both our families are wealthy in the trade and our families have been partners for years. And we're really not too young to marry, Alice. My cousin is just a few years older than me and he married a fine girl just last month."

"Thomas?"

He shook his head. "Matthew."

"Oh." Alice sighed, still lost. "But do we love each other? Could we actually marry?" She didn't _think _she loved Hamish. She'd never even thought of him in a. . . romantic sense. Then again, how would she know what that felt like? She could already be in love with him. She wish could've found out sooner.

Yet, when she looked at the red-headed boy across from her, marriage didn't exactly come to mind.

Hamish scoffed at her. "We fall in love _after _we marry, Alice."

"But what if, even many years from now. . . What if we don't want to get married?"

Hamish waved the thought away. "We will. We do," he added.

"Oh." Alice's confusion only grew at this. She'd have to ask her father about all this later.

As if conjured by her thoughts, Alice spotted her father off in the distance through the window. He was walking with Lord Ascot in the gardens, his hands clasped behind his back. That was his favorite "business-talk" pose. Lord Ascot and Charles seemed a bit flustered, maybe even frustrated, with each other. Lord Ascot was speaking animatedly to her father, using his hands for emphasis. Her father shook his head gruffly in reply. That only seemed to further aggravate Lord Ascot.

Alice watched in curiosity while Hamish went on and on about the advantages of his having her hand. He seemed to be unaware of what was happening.

Alice's eyes widened. Her father went to point at Lord Ascot, but stopped with his hand mid-air. He clutched his side and winced. He bent at the knees, searching with one hand for something to grab onto. Lord Ascot quickly got over his shock and helped her father to the ground. Alice's heart rate quickened.

Lord Ascot waved over to some men who had been watching from the sidelines. They sprinted over to her father and carried him out of Alice's view. It had all happened so quickly. If Alice had blinked, she would've missed it. Part of her wished she had.

Hamish finally noticed that something was amiss with his supposed bride-to-be. "Alice? What's wrong?" He tried to look out the window Alice was still gawking through. "What did you see? Alice?"

She couldn't muster up any words. She simply shook her head and wiped a tear away.

Unfamiliar with what to do when women expressed their feelings, Hamish slowly patted Alice's back. "Do you want to go to your mother?" His voice was full of uncertainty, but he was trying.

Alice shook her head again. She simply sat there, numb. Hamish continued to pat her back.

After several minutes, Alice finally looked up at Hamish's concern-filled face. "Hamish, please promise me something."

"Alice?"

"When we're married, don't ever leave me."

Hamish pondered this for a while before promising. "Alright, Alice. I will never leave you."

. . . . .

(**Now, I realize a lot of you might not like the ending to this chapter. Let me explain. I honestly think Hamish is a good guy; he was just brought up like any other Englishman would've been in that day and age. Alice's mother, I'm guessing, simply assumed that Alice would pick up on these normal principles, as any normal girl would have. So she never talked to her about it. And I doubt her father did, even though her father is a wonderful parent. So she went along with the marriage idea with her confusion. She only accepted it **_**more**_** in her moment of weakness after seeing her father crumple. She hasn't yet found her muchness, you know. So for now, Alice goes along with all of this.)**

** Insanity: Dang, that was a long rant. I apologize for these wound up phalanges.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, readers. :) To be honest, I'm in a horrible mood right now. Long story. But I thought maybe some AiW writing would help. Here goes.**

** Disclaimer: I own nothing of AiW. **

** Inspirational Song: "Alice Reprise 3" - Danny Elfman**

** (I just checked my outline for this story. It's a depressing chapter. That's fantastic. haha?)**

. . . . .

Alice wasn't normally a gloomy girl. In fact, she always tended to look at the positive side of things.

Lately, that hadn't been the case.

Her father, and best friend, was still regrettably struggling with his illness. He had gotten increasingly worse and was now succumbed to his bed.

Alice's open imagination had unfortunately given way to the frightening cause of this mysterious disease. She now believed that the illness had launched itself into her home straight from Hell itself.

Alice had a good friend named Marilese and she was a wonderful girl. She was so charming and completely humble. One day, Marilese informed her that her favorite aunt had died. Once asking her father about this, she was told that sometimes, bad things happen to good people. (Alice didn't like that at all and it really did confuse her a bit.) This was evidence to the fact that this demon-illness from Hell had taken refuge inside her father's body.

Charles had been in bed for three days now, drifting in and out of consciousness. All about the house people stood gravely. Margaret tried her hardest to look strong and brave for Alice, but it was no use. Alice knew her sister well and could tell that she was almost equally upset as she was.

All the housemaids continued their work, but they all wore frowns throughout it. They liked Charles very much. He was so kind to them and treated them as equals. He was simply a friend to them. But now, he was a friend under siege by his illness.

Alice's mother couldn't even bother to try to stand tall for her daughters. She was too deep in sorrow. Her appearance was showing it, as well. Her hair had grayed, her eyes were red-rimmed, the bags under her eyes were pronounced. Alice usually knew just what to say. Now she didn't know what to do. Her mother was becoming more and more irritable.

Helen usually met with Alice before lessons started and then walked her there. Confused, Alice searched for her. She finally found her in her father's study. Helen was sitting in his chair behind his desk, reading a book. Well, she was looking at the book. Her eyes, however, were doing no reading.

"Mother?" Alice asked. "Are you alright?"

Helen glanced up at Alice. "I'm fine, dear." Her voice was like gravel. She cleared her throat.

"Okay." Her brow furrowed. "Erm. . . I'll just go to my lessons then." She was about to turn around when her mother's voice interrupted her.

"You don't have lessons today."

Alice saw that she had put the book down and holding her head in her hands. "What?"

Helen rubbed her temples, wincing. "You don't have lessons today, Alice."

Alice's lessons were never cancelled. Never. Education was something Helen and Charles agreed was important for her. "But, why?"

Helen stood up abruptly and looked at Alice with hard eyes. "Simply because, Alice! Now please stop _pestering _me and go to your room! Call a housemaid if you need anything, just stay in your room!"

Alice's frightened eyes widened at her mother's cold ones. She was holding back tears right when Helen seemed to realize that she had just drastically raised her voice at her fourteen-year-old daughter. Her eyes' widened and she covered her mouth with one hand, as if to capture the harsh words that already left.

Helen half ran, half skimmed out from behind the desk and around Alice. Alice noted that she tried her best not to touch Alice. She was down the hall and out of sight fairly quickly.

Alice felt numb. Yes, she had received many lectures from her mother. No, she had never been yelled at so angrily.

She wasn't sure if her mother's perturbed departure was a dismissal to her order or not. To be safe, Alice crept back to her room. She wished she could've visited her father, but she didn't want to risk running into her mother.

Alice shut the door softly behind her. With a frown etched across her face, she locked it.

. . . . .

**Rachel: Oddly enough, I am in such a bad mood because of my mother. Huh.**

** Insanity: So I'm guessing writing didn't help you out too much?**

** Rachel: . . . No, not really.**

** Insanity: Well, well. . . Aren't we a Negative Nancy. . . **


	6. Chapter 6

** Sorry! I know it's been a while. . . . Again. I've just been very distracted. And thank you to those who wished for me to cheer up. My day today was actually pretty darn awesome. :) So here's another **_**installment **_**(oh yeah) to this story.**

** Disclaimer: I own nothing blah blah blah. . . **

** Inspirational Song: "Smile" - Uncle Kracker**

. . . . .

_"Happy fifteenth birthday, Alice!"_

Laughter and applause filled the space of the dimly lit kitchen. Charles put his hand on Alice's back as she prepared to blow out her candles.

"Remember to make your wish, Alice." She heard him whisper into her ear. She wouldn't forget this time. Last year she had forgotten to make a wish and caused her father to be bed-ridden for weeks. It was a miracle performed once he became well enough to function again. Equally as momentous, her mother came back to life. Alice's fear (or the majority of it) had vanished.

Alice closed her eyes. If her wish was general enough, perhaps it could cover many topics of distress?

_I wish for all the world's confusion to clear._

Everyone shouted when she blew out the candles. All at once, for good measure.

Alice waved the smoke away and turned around to smile at her parents. Her father's arm was slung around her mother's waist. Both their cheeks were rosy.

"Come, Alice! Now is when the real fun begins!" Margaret said. She was kind enough to have prepared the cake for Alice.

Alice nodded and helped her mother cut the delicacy. Hamish took too big a slice, but what else was to be expected? He grinned at her scowl as he plunged into the cake. "Maffie Murphbae, Mahee," he said with his mouth full.

Alice sighed and shook her head, hiding a small smile. Faith and Fiona were eyeing the cake with scrutinizing gazes. Oh, yes. Because a single piece of cake will burst the buttons off their corsets. Typical Chataway behavior, but in the end they both settled for a piece.

The cake was marvelous. Margaret apparently thought so, too. A smug smile was spread across her face as everyone gathered around the dining room table.

. . . . .

"Oh, Martin does look so _fine_ today!" Fiona gushed.

Faith fanned her face as if the boy's handsomeness was so extreme that she felt it to the point of dizziness. "No, not fine, but _superb._"

"Simply striking, at the least."

"Mhmm."

Of course they'd argue over what matching dresses to wear, but when it came to handsome boys. . . The twins were all for agreement. Alice found it hard to concur with them. All the assembled young men who had come to her party looked the same to her. Slicked-back hair, rigid postures, and shoes polished to reflection. No diversity in these ones.

"Don't you agree, Alice? Doesn't Thomas look marvelous?"

Alice tuned back to reality and nodded vaguely. "Yes. He looks very handsome."

The girls giggled, but Alice simply played with her hair distractedly. She was rather bored at the moment.

They were standing near the refreshments table, although they really should have been dancing. Or mingling. But Faith and Fiona had wanted a, erm. . . Better view of the celebration, to say. Alice didn't really mind. The dances were as diverse as the guests.

Alice looked over and saw her sister dancing with a very handsome young man. She believed his name was Lowell; he was from the next town over. He seemed kindly enough. Margaret kept stealing glances at him, as if she couldn't believe he was real, and nonetheless, dancing with _her_. She'd have to ask her about him later.

Suddenly a hand was in her face. It was Hamish's.

"Would you care to dance with me, birthday girl?"

_No, thank you. I'd rather go eat a toad._

"Of course, Hamish." He beamed at her.

Reluctantly, Alice took his hand and was led over to the center of the dance floor. To her dismay, a path was cleared and everyone halted their dances to watch the celebrated girl saunter around with her. . . soon-to-be husband. She inwardly scowled.

She had heard of the rumors concerning them, how the two were to be wed at young age. Alice didn't know what to make of it, so she confronted her mother about it. Helen had confirmed the rumors, causing Alice to run away to her room. She sulked for a little while, but knew she had to come out at some point. Did she really have a choice on the matter anyways?

Not that she didn't mind conversing with Hamish. . . Too much. But she had thought no romantic ideas of him! Never once! If anything, he was simply a friend. They had known each other for years, after all. Yet, that just made it ever more awkward.

They had watched each other grow with the uttermost of curiosity. It was strange, yes, but reassuring that someone you knew was going through the same things as you. Alice had shaped well into her curves and structure, as Hamish had increasingly grown taller. He never could get rid of that baby face, though. Poor lad.

The two finally finished their dance. Hamish arrogantly bowed while Alice did a modest curtsey. They were applauded, and before Alice could do anything, Hamish grabbed her for another one.

_Just one more dance, Alice. Be strong. You can muster it. . . _

He spun her around gallantly, looking back at the crowd. Thankfully, others would be dancing to this number. Well, there was a plus.

Alice spotted her father from behind Hamish's shoulder. He had a peculiar look on his face. Unlike the other fathers who were staring at their daughters' dancing partners as if they were inspecting their looks for riches, Charles was looking at Hamish with amusement. He locked eyes with Alice and raised a brow as if to indicate: _He's a charmer._

Alice laughed and earned a quizzical look from her dance partner. "What are you laughing at, Alice?"

Alice tried to dispose of her smile, but failed. "Oh, erm, nothing. Just. . . thought of something comical, is all."

His expression turned towards concern. "Alright. . . "

She looked over at her father again and laughed even louder this time. He had pointed to Hamish and crossed his eyes.

"Alice, what _is _so funny?"

"Oh, well, it's nothing-really!" She couldn't stop laughing.

Hamish might've thought she was insane, but what did she care?

. . . . .

**Insanity: There is absolutely nothing wrong with being mentally different! And who is to say what a 'normal' mind is like? If every mind was the same, we'd be walking drones!**

** Rachel: I agree.**

** Insanity: Sheeeah you do! We share this mind, you know!**

** Rachel: I know. The haunting thought crosses our mind every waking hour.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, I'm sorry. There is no excuse for how long it's taken me to update this. I mean, I'm sure there are, but I'm not going to bother. You have reason to punch me. In the face. Go ahead. Do it. **

** Disclaimer: I. . . own nothing. . . of Alice in Wonderland.**

** Inspirational Song: "Bruised" - Jack's Mannequin**

. . . . .

"Can I have some of that roast beef, Helen? I've grown hungry again."

Alice's father was glued to the bed again and had been for about a week or so. She'd gotten more and more angered, and not because of her ripe age of the moody sixteen.

Margaret handed her father the steaming plate of beef that Helen had prepared. Charles was slick with sweat, but shivering, in his and Helen's bed. Unfortunately, the bright sun was piercing them all with its white-hot waves. Charles's hand wavered as he lifted the fifty-pound fork in his hand. Helen, with her red-rimmed eyes, frowned with her daughters at the sight.

Yes, Alice had grown increasingly upset lately. The sight of her brilliantly behaved father in the state he was in, confined to an evil illness such as the one he had, was nearly impossible to take in. If impossible things existed, surely this would have been an example of that.

The best comparison she thought of for this situation was any Saint's suffering. No one so holy, so pure, should have to endure such pain or grief. Yet there her father lay, struggling with his raspy breaths. Alice frowned.

"Anything you may need, father?" she asked, her tone unwavering yet quiet.

His brown eyes met hers with kindness. "No, I'm fine, Alice." He frowned slightly. "Shouldn't you be in lessons? Or studying your lessons?"

Alice shook her head.

He eyed her suspiciously. "Alright then. . . " He gave her a sly smile. "Fine with you, fine by me." He chuckled and Alice hesitantly joined in. Margaret and Helen smiled, as well.

But their banter could not stifle her burning anger at whoever had brought this disease upon them. Charles seemed to notice this, so he asked her, "Is everything alright, Alice? You seem a bit put off." He patted the space near him softly, or maybe he patted it so insignificantly because he could not bear to use any excess strength. Alice did not dread on that thought for too long.

For the first time in her life, Alice did not draw nearer to her father when presented to. Her father's brow furrowed and he frowned. Alice didn't know why she did it, but she shook her head. "I-I can't, actually," she muttered. She backed up a few steps with three pairs of eyes staring curiously at her. "I've got to go. . .go do something. For my lessons, I've just remembered."

And before she could register the hurt look on her father's face, she briskly left the room.

She ran to the tea room. For no particular reason; but she ran into the tea room.

She was shaking with anger. She had simply thought too much about this illness! It was consuming all their lives! Every day, they had to check on father to see if he was still breathing. Every day, Alice prayed at night for the hope she desperately needed to get through this. Every day, she swore to the illness for playing its games with them.

One day, he'd be dancing about the house with his wife clutched merrily in his embrace. The next? A severe attack would have the doctor called over. The illness was messing with their minds, trying to make them believe everything would be alright, when in reality, it never could be again.

Not with that monstrous thing murdering her father from the inside!

Alice yelled in bitter frustration and swung her arm around, flinging a vase across the room and watching it crash against the wall, shattering into a million pointed pieces.

Alice's anger vanished immediately. She felt tears sting in the corners of her eyes and heard two pairs of footsteps running to her. Alice fell to her knees and quickly crawled over to the mess she had made. She heard the door swing open, but didn't look around.

"Alice, what-what happened?" she heard Margaret ask.

"The vase fell." Her voice sounded so monotone to her.

"How?"

"The breeze knocked it over."

"What breeze?"

Alice looked over. The window was shut. "There is no breeze."

"That, Alice, I am aware of." Her mother's voice didn't sound too kind. Alice quickly continued to pick up the pieces and tried carrying them within the skirt of her dress, holding it up by the hem.

"Please go back to father, I've got this taken care-" Alice moaned. Her trembling fingers had slipped and every single piece had clattered back to the floor. Her tears were falling freely now.

Margaret came up to Alice and kneeled, helping her with the broken shatters of the vase. They heard Charles call to them and then Helen's quickened retreat to the bedroom. A door slammed in her wake.

. . . . .

**Rachel: So. That's that chapter done.**

** Insanity: I wonder how much that vase had cost. . . **

** Rachel: Twenty million dollars.**

** Insanity: Really?**

** Rachel: Yes. I, I MEAN WE, wrote it.**

** Insanity: Nice save.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm so sorry about that extensive period in time of which I submitted no work! Ask anyone who knows me, I'm very easily distracted. Which reminds me. Have any of you seen the final Harry Potter yet? :) But I am truly sorry.**

** Disclaimer: I own SQUAT of AiW.**

** Inspirational Song: "When I Grow Up" - Mayday Parade**

. . . . .

The crowd, in which Alice grinned, roared with pleasure at the newly wedded couple's kiss. Margaret and Lowell waved at their smiling friends' faces. They then joined hands and ran down the aisle, smiling at those who cheered for their marital joy.

Alice, the beautiful 17-year-old, smiled at her parents who stood on either side of her. Her father had to lean on a cane and was clearly sweating, but by the look on his face you would've thought he didn't have a worry in the world. Helen leaned across Alice and kissed him on the cheek, looking much better than she had a week before.

"Let's move on to the ballroom," Helen insisted. "We have ten minutes before they dance!" Alice giggled at her mother's blissful determination.

Alice took the arm of her father and they slowly made their way over to the church's largest room, specifically intended for weddings' uses. The others surrounding them strode on, everyone heading in the same direction. Cheerful banter met Alice's ears.

Alice simply found it astonishing how she could feel so much joy while her ill father was confined to having to lean on her in order to walk. Yet, he was happy himself. Alice learned a long while ago that there was no possible way to beat this disease. They all had. It had been a silent and mutual decision to merely attend to Charles's needs when needed without any outbursts or cries. The sickening journey had been too long and too hard to have to scream about it every other time something seemed unfair.

Alice had also grown up immensely recently. She was through with her lessons and was meticulously engaged in talking politics with her father. She was actually very interested in it and it even seemed to cheer Charles up a bit. Of course, they couldn't stay up chatting too late. Helen was always there to tisk Alice for engaging in men's business.

"Good day, Alice. Mr. Kingsley," a nasally voice sounded.

Alice turned her head and inwardly smirked. Hamish stood there, chest pushed out proudly, grinning at her. "Hello, Hamish," she and her father said politely.

"Say, Hamish," Charles said. "Has your father said anything on my proposition to you that he wouldn't mind sharing?"

Hamish shook his head. "No, sir. He doesn't usually speak to me about his practices."

"Ah." He frowned slightly. "Thank you, all the same."

Hamish nodded and took over Alice's job of helping her father. Alice smiled her thanks to him just as he said, "Alice, very sorry, but could you please excuse your father and I for a moment? I'd like to have a word with him."

Her brow furrowed. "Alright. . ." she said warily. She nodded her goodbye to her father, who smiled and nodded reassuringly to her.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to overhear in this crowd, she walked ahead briskly. Her jaw fell open at the sight behind those open doors.

She walked through a white garden archway, green vines and pink flowers intertwined between the crevices. The lighting was bright in the large and sweet-smelling room. Almost twenty tables, all covered in white tablecloths, formed an open circle. On each one was a crystal vase of pink flowers. Pink and white streamers were thrown about the room, all tied to the center chandelier.

The sight was breathtaking.

Almost at once, Alice was pulled along by both the Chataway sisters. They immediately started gushing about how beautiful Margaret looked and how lucky Lowell is. Faith even had tears in her eyes. For once in all her life, Alice shared their enthusiasm. They found their seats right by Margaret and Lowell's.

Alice hugged Margaret tightly. "You look so beautiful," she whispered.

"So do you," her sister whispered back. They broke apart and Alice, again, was awed by her dress. Its pure white skirt dragged only a bit on the floor and was tied at the waist by a pink ribbon of silk. Her arms were draped in a soft netting, which flowers could be found in. Margaret hadn't been exaggerating when she told Alice how elegant the gown looked.

Alice was wearing a simple white gown with blue trimmings near the neck. Simple, but pleasing nonetheless. _Of course, no stockings or corsets are being worn by __**me**__ today_, Alice thought smugly.

"I am _so _happy for you, Margaret, you have no idea."

"Thank you." She beamed at her. Lowell walked over and placed his arm about her waist. He kissed Margaret on the cheek and turned to look at Alice.

"Having a pleasant time, Alice?"

She nodded. "I take it you are?" She raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled. "Of course."

Suddenly Helen was at their side with two drinks and giving orders. "Lowell, please, go talk to that man over there; he's Mr. Burnington, the one I told you about earlier. Yes, yes, but please do hurry." Helen waited for him to stroll over to the heavily bearded man before continuing. "Margaret, you have to go find your father. He has a little surprise for you. No, it's not a disaster, you'll be pleased." . . . "Just trust me; go!" Helen placed her hands on her hips as Margaret darted off into the chatting crowd to find her father. Several people patted her on the back or touched her arm, anything to touch the holy bride.

Her mother looked at her. She didn't seem to have anything for Alice to do. She handed her a drink, cold tea, and took a large mouthful herself.

Alice smiled. "Alright, mother?"

Helen sighed, but eyed her youngest daughter kindly nevertheless. "Alice, Alice, Alice. . . " She smiled wistfully. "You're such a pretty girl. You know this?"

Confused, Alice nodded. What else was she to do?

Helen waved with her free hand about the room. "Has any of this given you an idea or two?"

"However do you mean?"

"Why, marriage, of course."

"Oh!" Alice almost choked on her sip of tea. No, she certainly had _not _had any ideas of marriage lately! Was she supposed to? She knew many girls her age married about this time, but even so. . . Do all have to? She wasn't even in love. She knew so many expected her to marry Hamish at some time or another, but that prospect was so _very _far back in her mind. So far back, in fact, you could almost say Alice had purposefully put it back there.

_"Alice!"_

"Oh, I'm sorry, mother. Well, erm, I'm not. . .sure?" Her answer had sounded like a question.

Her mother's eyes hardened and went to speak what was assumed to be a lecture, but was thankfully interrupted by a sudden uptake of music.

All eyes were on the dance floor as Charles led Margaret to the center of it. Alice could see from where she was that her sister's eyes looked misty, but not nearly as watery as her father's. Charles took his eldest daughter's waist and began to spin her around, dancing to the elegant tune, as if he had all the strength in the world. Margaret laughed blissfully as her father pulled her around the dance floor.

Alice saw Helen wipe a tear away from the corner of her eye. She held her hand out to her and smiled softly. Helen returned the smile and took her hand.

Ignoring the thoughtful stare she was getting from Hamish from across the dance floor, Alice thought of her future and what it might hold for her. To her, the path of life was a long and confusing one. Her only comforting thought as she watched her father spin her sister around was that whatever turns she took, she would be the one to take them.

. . . . .

**Rachel: Right then! Chapter 8. . . **

** Insanity: Doodliedoo, how are you. . . **

** Rachel: Wonderful. . . :)**


	9. Chapter 9

** Only one more chapter after this one, I do say. Or type. Fair warning: This chapter is highly depressing. But this one, above all others, certainly has to be.**

** Disclaimer: I own nothing of AiW. At least, I don't think I do. . . O.o**

** Inspirational Song: "Eleanor Rigby" - The Beatles**

. . . . .

"Fetch him some more water, Margaret. His forehead's crisping. While you're at it, go dampen his washcloth again. This one's gone warm. Again."

Margaret quickly left the room after taking the washcloth off of her father's forehead. This had to have been the fourth time within half of an hour. Alice bit her lip as she watched her father's chest shakily fall back down again. It wasn't much movement at all, but every time his chest rose Alice prayed to the Lord. And then thanked him again once the miracle repeated itself. Alice had finally come to grips with the fact that her father's end was near.

Alice and Helen were stuffed inside the cool room with Charles laying on the bed. The window stood wide open as the moonlight shone on them all. A light breeze fluttered throughout the dimly lit room. Despite this, Charles was sweating through his sheets. The three females had been periodically fetching more and more water and dampening the cloth to place over his forehead.

They were kidding themselves. It wasn't helping at all; they could tell.

Margaret bustled back into the room and pressed the dripping cloth to the wheezing man's forehead. Then she held his head forward so she could dip the water back into his throat.

"Thank you," he choked out.

Margaret nodded solemnly.

"Darlings, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to speak to your mother alone for a moment," Charles managed.

Alice patted his sweaty hand before leaving the room with Margaret. She shut the door softly behind her and sat on the sitting room's couch with her sister. Without a word, Margaret looped an arm around Alice and pulled her closer. They sat there together for a while in silence.

She wanted to know when it would happen. The death. Her heart skipped a beat each time she thought about it, but she knew she had to at least attempt for preparation of what was to come. Although, could one actually prepare for something as gruesome as this? The death of a beloved parent? She assumed she'd find out soon enough.

She thought she missed two beats that time.

The doctors had said that Charles had highly surpassed their expectations of his shortened life span. Alice wasn't surprised. Her father was so strong. Yet even he couldn't survive what was coming.

The two sisters sat there, holding onto each other, for what felt like hours, but what was truly only minutes. Their mother hastily called them back into the room soon enough with watery eyes.

Margaret quickly sped ahead and kneeled near her father's head. She took his hands and listened to the words that were spoken too softly for Alice to hear. Alice covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a quick sob. This was it. It was almost done.

She vaguely felt an aged hand touch her back. She kept staring at his face. Her father's sallow face.

A short moment later, Margaret stood up, having to use the nightstand for support. Her mother went to her and helped her away from the bed. As if in a trance, Alice stiffly walked over to her dying father. She sat on the floor right by him and placed her hands in her lap. Her father gave her a small, sad smile. She could not return it.

"You've grown so much in such a short time, my little Alice," he whispered.

She nodded. A tear skimmed down her cheek.

"You can't possibly understand. . ." He closed his eyes and winced at a painful spasm. ". . .how proud I am of you. You truly are as strong as a soldier, yet as darling as a dove. You know this?"

Alice shook her head vigorously. "Father, no, no- no, this isn't right, it can't-possibly-"

"Shush, shush. . .It'll be alright Alice. I have faith in you and know you'll be perfect. You already are."

"I love you, father. . . "

"I love you, Alice."

"But if you leave-" She again had to suppress a sob. "I- I'll go completely round the bend without you! I won't be able to live without you!" It was imperative he knew this! "I'll be completely off my head!"

"All the best people are. . . Alice." He smiled at her then, and the last twinkle in his deep brown eyes, so much like Alice's, finally burnt out.

A great and racking shudder spread throughout Alice's body as a loud and low moan escaped her lips. A lifetime's preparation couldn't have saved her from this. Alice sobbed loudly at her lifeless father's bedside. She could hear sniffles from behind her, sounding from a far distance.

She would never be happy again. She would never feel free again. She couldn't. How could she, when her father, her best friend, was reduced to nothing but a memory? It was impossible.

Alice lay against her father's limp form for hours, even after she had no more tears to cry.

. . . . .

** Rachel: Take note.**

** Insanity: We did warn you.**

** Rachel: Of the sadness hidden.**

** Insanity: Within this piece of literature.**


	10. Chapter 10

** Welcome to the final chapter of ****More Lonely Than the Flowers****! Thanks for sticking with me throughout this whole thing. It was a very different type of writing than I usually do and was an interesting experience.**

** Disclaimer: I have yet to own anything of AiW.**

** Inspirational Song: "Wheel in the Sky" - Journey**

. . . . .

In the picture Alice is holding, she is nine years old. The bright smile painted on her face hadn't been exaggerated at all as she sat on her father's lap. She looked up at her father's face with pure admiration. His grin was wide and his eyes full of happiness. Charles Kingsleigh was a man whose treasure was his family and no one would ever forget that.

Alice placed the picture back on her dresser, on top of a folder of documents that Alice had been interested in. She had Hamish sneak them to her after borrowing them from his father. Lord Ascot might've been a little confused at first by his son's sudden interest in the trade, but Alice believed that he soon caught on to what was truly going on. Hamish might be a git, but he could be useful every once in a while.

"Alice? Are you ready yet? We'll be leaving soon."

Alice turned around to find her mother standing at the door. "Margaret and Lowell are already there," she explained. Helen was wearing a pleasant and flowery dress of black and white. "We cannot be late to this one," she added.

"Juts about," Alice said warily. They had been invited to so many gatherings this past year. She suspected it was due to the curiosity of how her family was doing after their recent. . . trauma.

"Well, do hurry. The stagecoach is already waiting on the drive." She turned to leave.

"Wait. Mother?" Helen glanced back at her beautiful and now nineteen-year-old daughter. "Must we go to this one?"

Helen sighed, exasperated. "Yes, for the fifth time today, Alice, yes."

"But they're really _all _the same. What's this one for, anyhow?"

Helen's eyes hardened. "It's a surprise."

Alice lifted a brow. "Really?" Helen nodded briskly. Alice sighed. "They won't even notice my absence! Really, I don't see why-"

"You're going to this party." Alice shrunk a little bit at her mother's tone. "Meet me out front in five minutes, no less." Again, she made to go, but then looked back at her defeated daughter. "You can try to have fun at this one, perhaps?" she added a bit softer.

Alice nodded and Helen left.

She stood up a little straighter and rubbed the nonexistent wrinkles out of her light blue dress. She'd just been so tired lately. No, she went to bed at a reasonable time every night. What kept her up were the dreams. They visited her every night now and the mysterious images had slowly been getting clearer and clearer. She didn't know what to make of them, but had long since grown used to them.

She'd also grown weary of her exasperating company. While Alice had matured into a curious and insightful young woman, the Chataways had grown into giddy and superficial young ladies. It only pained Alice slightly to realize that there was no one she was truly on kind terms with.

And now she was to go and socialize with a whole collection of them. They were all the same. The parties, the people who went there, it was all so tiresome.

But she really didn't have a choice, did she?

So she walked out her bedroom door, heading for the stagecoach that would take her to the Ascots'.

Alice pondered how boring and dull this party would be. Surely it would be just like any other.

THE END


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